Lost Memories
by Fang323
Summary: Alfred doesn't clean his storage room often, and eventually asks Arthur for help.  Maybe this wasn't the best idea. A series of one-shots.
1. Prologue

Hey there, Fang here. This is the premier/back story to this series of fics that awaits my writing.

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><p>"Arthur, take your stupid weather away from here…!"<p>

"Git, I have no control over it, and you know it."

Alfred stared out at the droplets dotting the window and scowled. Arthur came to join him, sipping his English Breakfast tea.

"Come now, chap, rain isn't all bad.

"But it's cold! Man, I have no idea how you can live with all this doom and gloom everyday."

"It's not too hard," Arthur shrugged, "You get used to it after a while."

Alfred snorted, and led the way from the window into the hallway, Arthur right behind him.

"Well, guess we bros don't have to worry about weather today!"

He stopped in front of a door at the end of the hallway. Arthur set down his tea on the closest end table.

"Thanks so much for comin' to help clean up my #!*% , man." Alfred shoved the door open to the dark room ahead.

"Apparently, I don't have anything better to do…" Arthur murmured. Alfred flipped on the light.

Millions of items were littered all around the walls and floors. The room itself seemed to stretch on and on to no end. The lights in the room cast a dim glow upon the objects littered around the room, giving it an almost depressed feel.

"Rather chilly, don't you think?" Arthur commented, rubbing his arm to attempt some warmth. Alfred shrugged, and began shifting through the first box on the floor.

"Hey, dude, go ahead and start on that pile of boxes over there, alright?" Alfred motioned the other side of the room where a stack of cardboard piled high to the ceiling.

So it begun.

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><p>AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:<p>

Alright, so this is a series of one chapter fics, each one based upon some item that is found by these two in Alfred's storage room. I have ideas for four of them, but I want to do more than just 4 chapters. I shall continue thinking, but I am extremely welcome to suggestions. Extremely.

Just as a note, this is supposed to take place in modern days, so anything from the colonial days to 2011 is awesome and totally up for bat.

But yes! I needed a break from "Young Again", my brain was getting fried. I shall continue writing it after I have about 2 chapters of this up, and my brain is fresh and revitalitized!

I await your much-needed comments, please! Thank you!

-Fang


	2. Lone Musket

Hey there, Fang here.

This chapter I am publishing quickly, so if there are any mistakes in typos and such, it is because i really have to get off the computer soon..but read, anyway!

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><p>"Aw, dude! I haven't seen this in forever!"<p>

Arthur turned around from his box to see Alfred holding up a black and purple monstrosity.

"You had hideous style, git."

"Psh, no! Zoot suits were so in back in the 1940s! Purple pinstripes? #!*% yeah!" Alfred took the dusty jacket off the wire hanger and tried it on. Arthur shook his head and smirked.

"That is the ugliest jacket I've seen in a long time…" he said, fixing his own immaculate suit.

"Hey, that's a little harsh!" Alfred dug though the box of clothing again, obviously looking for a particular object.

"Ah-ha!" he cried triumphantly, jamming on a broad-brimmed outlandish hat. Arthur barely covered up a laugh.

"You have an odd sense of fashion…"

Alfred crossed his arms. "Don't be a hater! These clothes are awesome!" keeping the ridiculous outfit on, he began digging into the box again.

"No wonder you asked me to stay over for a few days…it's going to take longer than a few hours to comb through this place." Arthur commented. Alfred merely laughed.

A few minutes past and spent rummaging. Things were sorted into piles, but almost nothing was thrown out.

"You clean less often than even I do…" Arthur remarked. Alfred shot him a look, but Arthur had already turned his back.

"Nothing in this box but old sports equipment." Arthur pushed the box away and stood up to stretch. He eye caught a pile of weaponry on the floor, and he grinned.

"Finally, something interesting…"

He made his way over. When Alfred heard the clatter of metal, he shot up quickly. Looking at Arthur bent at the mound of guns, he rushed over.

"Arthur! Arthur, wait! Take that pile of crap over there, I'll switch with you!

"Eh? No, it's fine. I can handle it…"

"But…but I want to go through it instead!"

Arthur stared at him in confusion, and then shook his head.

"It's big enough, we can do it together…" he started picking up weapons and separating them into groups. Alfred kneeled down next to him and began rustling through the guns in a frenzy, tossing them every which way in search of something.

"Where is it…I have to find it…" he murmured to himself, not noticing Arthur's gaze of curiousness and a bit of suspicion.

"What do you need? I have a keen eye, you know."

"No! No, it's fine…you really should check out that box, I think. I put a weird tea set in there that you might like!"

But Arthur was already grabbing an old gun, one that hadn't been fired in over two centuries.

"This is something I haven't seen in so long! An old late-1700's genuine musket!"

He was turning it around in his hands, a mixed look of wonder and remembrance in his face. Alfred's hand slashed out to grab the gun, but only caught the iron barrel of it. Arthur held fast.

"Come on, Artie, it's just a gun! Let me put it where it belongs…"

Arthur scowled. "What's gotten into you to get you so worked up? It's just a musket."

"Arthur-"

But Alfred was too late. Arthur had seen it.

"What the…this…scratch…" Arthur stared at the deep grove embedded in the wood of the gun, shock in his eyes. Alfred pulled harder.

"Seriously! It's just a gun! Stop looking at it so much!"

This time, Arthur jerked hard on the gun, and Alfred reluctantly let go. He tensed, waiting for the unexpected.

"Arthur…please, just give me the gun…"

Arthur wasn't listening. His eyes were focused entirely on the gun, wide and unblinking.

"T-This mark…I made.. this scratch…didn't I…"

Alfred shook his head violently and tried to cover up the evidence.

"N-No, Arthur, I was probably a klutz and just scratched it…!"

Nothing Alfred could say would fix this. Arthur just looked at him, pain and betrayal clouding his vision.

"Alfred, you kept…"

Alfred could do nothing but stutter. "I-I'm sorry, Arthur! But I keep everything…"

Arthur just stared at him a moment more. Slowly, he set the horrid musket down on the floor and stood up silently, not taking his eyes off of his brother. He turned quickly on his heel and left the room.

Alfred stood in shock for a minute, but rushed to his senses in record time and ran after his retreating brother.

"Arthur! Arthur, wait! That's why…that's why I didn't want you to-"

He grabbed the Brit's sleeve, but it was jerked out of his grasp. Arthur whipped around, his eyes shining with unshed water.

"Why? Why did you keep that, Alfred?"

Alfred stepped back in surprise at Arthur's outburst. The Brit's hands clenched, and his teeth were gritted. Fire almost spilled from his gaze.

"What, did you plan to hang it on your wall someday with pride at your accomplishments? Were you going to send it to me as a birthday gift just to watch me shrivel up and die? Do you use it as decoration in your #!*% 4th of July parades?"

Alfred backed up instinctively.

"N-No! Nothing like that!"

Arthur scoffed, his eyes blazing red with fire and water. He whipped away from Alfred and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.

Alfred continued. "I wanted to get rid of it…but-"

"You just couldn't let go of the symbol of your victory, huh?"

Arthur's voice was cold and icy: each word bit into Alfred's skin like a knife. He glared at Alfred hatred and pain filling his expression.

"So like you, Alfred. So #!*% like you."

With that knifing remark, Arthur turned and walked towards the stairs. Alfred followed closely behind, still struggling for words.

"Arthur! Arthur, you've got it all wrong! That musket, I put it there and forgot about it!"

"Some excuse, you #!*% idiot! I'm not going to believe that, Alfred! Not even for a second!"

Arthur quickened his space up the stairs, and Alfred ran after him. At the top of the stairwell, Alfred finally spoke again to try and convince Arthur of his truthfulness.

"Please…it just…never crossed my mind until you mentioned the weapons. That why I was trying to find it before you did."

Arthur stopped, but he didn't turn around. "Well, I think you've voiced your opinions loud enough, and without words as well. I bloody well shouldn't be here. Quite an accomplishment, Alfred."

With that, he disappeared into his room and slammed the door.

Alfred stood in the middle of the hallway, frozen. This wasn't how he wanted this day to go. Arthur had been driven off the edge. Alfred should have known anything related to the Revolution would have thrown the Brit into emotional turmoil. Arthur was so used to jumping to conclusions. Alfred was an idiot.

Making up his mind, Alfred threw the door open to Arthur's room.

"Arthur, it's not like that, and you know it! I wouldn't do something like this! You know me!"

Arthur was shoving clothing into his suitcase in every which way, definently not something a gentleman would even consider.

"Apparently not as well as I thought I did." He didn't pause in his angered packing. "Considering new circumstances, I bloody shouldn't be here. I'll leave you alone with your victorious memories!" Arthur scrubbed at his eyes, keeping his face hidden from the American. That was all Alfred needed to know to know the Brit was hiding his angry tears.

"Arthur, no! I'm an idiot, I know! I'll..." The American searched wildly in his head for a solution, "I'll burn it right now! Just don't do this, don't leave!"

Alfred had left Arthur once. It had taken too long to be reconciled again after the Revolution. He was not about to let that rift between them open up again.

"No, I'm not going to #!*% impede on your time any longer! I know what you really think now! I'll just do you one last favor and get out!"

Arthur finally looked at his brother, and he didn't care if the water was running down his face. "I knew you still hated me!"

With that, Arthur slammed his suitcase shut and stalked out of his room and rushed towards the front door. Alfred flew to catch up to him, and barely stopped his hand before it reached the handle. The American threw himself in front of the door.

"No, no, no!"

Arthur pushed at him, but Alfred remained firm. Arthur was not going to leave this house until everything was fixed, no matter how long it took for Alfred to repair the damage he had wrought.

"It was an accident, alright! You know what else is in there?"

Arthur's red face barely changed from its hurt look as Alfred continued.

"My Confederate flag, remnants of the Maine, pieces of Pearl Harbor…Of course I was bound to have things deep in there I didn't want!"

"Well yes..! But...! That was..." Arthur struggled through his twisting emotions for an argument.

Alfred shook his head, and grabbed his brother's shoulders. "I'm so sorry… I'm an idiot and probably deserve this, but I honestly didn't think I still had that…"

He hung his head and wrapped his arms around Arthur tightly. He should have known Arthur was still battling with remembering the Revolution. It was something locked up so deep inside of his heart, and Alfred had just blown the #!*% padlock up.

"I don't hate you, Arthur. #!*% , I could never hate you, you're my brother! Despite what happened back then…that has never changed. I hurt you then, but I didn't mean and have never wanted to hurt you now."

Arthur didn't

"...please..."

Alfred didn't raise his head, though his distress level lowered a bit in favor of a little hope.

"Please be telling the truth..."

Arthur's hair was in his eyes and his arms at his sides, but Alfred could tell his resolve was wavering. He plowed on anxiously.

"Really! I just throw things in there and forget about them! When have I ever lied to you…"

He looked at his brother intently, hoping his gaze would add to the truths he was telling him.

"…Al…" Arthur finally looked up at him, indescribable emotion hidden within his eyes. Alfred drew away from him, and rubbed the back of his head.

"I... I really don't want you to leave like this...God, I'm such an idiot...I never wanted this to happen...I...I did this to myself..."

"Wait, Alfred-"

"I...I just... #!*% don't think things through. Why the #!*% did I do that...? I could have sworn I left it on the field when I went to hug-..."

He stopped himself suddenly, and glanced over at Arthur to make sure he didn't ask about that. His brother had his hands shoved deep into his pockets, but he was looking up at him for once. His one eye closed betrayed his anxiety and nervousness about the whole situation.

"...I...won't leave..." he said quietly. He crossed his arms about him in his usual shield.

"And you don't have to burn it...the musket…just keep it."

Alfred looked at him incredulously, and laughed uncertainly.

"I... I don't know that I want to... It just causes trouble... I almost screwed up everything we've worked for in a hundred fifty years in ten minutes..."

Arthur turned away to face the opposing wall, letting the suitcase drop out of his hands.

"...it's a memory, Alfred...one I apparently haven't dealt with...but still a memory..." he admitted.

Both of them knew they would have to deal with it someday. It was one of the only awkward points between them now. But both were agreed on it. Neither of them wanted to talk just yet.

Alfred shifted back and forth on his heels, uncertain if Arthur had forgiven him just yet. "Fine... I guess... I'm done cleaning for now... I'm just..." He was the one this time who began to walk away.

"…I'm staying." Arthur's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"You... You still want to…?" Alfred ran to his brother and hugged him. Even those two words let him know it was going to be alright between them.

Arthur glared at the contact, but didn't push away.

"...It's over now, as far as I'm concerned...we're going to have to...talk...about that time...but not today."

Alfred could only embrace him tighter.

"Are…you sure?"

"...No matter what...you're still family. My family."

Alfred laughed, a real laugh, and slapped his bro on the back. He reverted as best he could to his exuberant self to hide his relief.

"And you know that's never gonna change, old man!"

Arthur could only grin through his blotchy face.

"I wouldn't want it to."

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><p>AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:<p>

Wow, much, much longer than most of my chapters! I feel accomplished.

Sandyangel, Don't worry, I'm writing the next chapter of "Young Again" as I type. Hope you enjoy this one as well!

And FaithAltoire, thanks! That's exactly what I was going for with the prologue...just something general that would go with every chapter I put in here. I will update the other fic!

And PwnedByPineapple, The Great Rapproachment! That's a great one! Thank you so much! ^_^ Hope my ideas and writing work well for this fic!

Anyway, since i have to get off, sorry, no real notes this time. Please review, and I love you all!

-Fang


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